


Sweetheart

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Endearments, Godfather Sirius Black, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Sirius would be easier if Harry didn’t get turned on every time his godfather called him ‘sweetheart’...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to my beta, who does marvels in so many ways <3 
> 
> shiftylinguini, I hope I did your prompt justice. I definitely enjoyed it!

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Sirius’s thumb runs across the skin at the back of Harry’s wrist, just for a second, and Harry finds himself biting back a gasp. How can such a simple touch feel like this? It sends tingles through Harry’s skin, pooling heat in his groin.

“Erm, that’s okay,” he says hastily, turning away.

This is _Sirius_ , this is his godfather, for Merlin’s sake. And yes, okay, Harry might only recently have discovered that he’s attracted to men (belatedly: most people realise before they’re nineteen, and before they’ve tried to have a long term relationship with a woman, though Ginny seemed as relieved to break up as Harry was, if truth be told). But still, this is Sirius. Of all the people to start a badly timed and ill-advised crush on, Sirius is… Harry is _living_ with Sirius, for fuck’s sake. He’s – it’s just –

It’s not going to happen. That’s what. Harry tells himself this very firmly indeed, and if when he wanks off that night, there is a shadowy-faced older man, murmuring ‘sweetheart’ in a low toned voice, it’s just chance. It’s fine. It’s nothing to do with what happened earlier.

*

Except Sirius seems to call him that a lot. _Sweetheart_. 

_“Can you pass the salt please, sweetheart?”_

_“Night, sweetheart.”_

_“You do that so well, sweetheart.”_

Harry is embarrassed by how strongly that last one turns him on. The combination of Sirius calling him sweetheart and praising him for something is… He has taken to wearing baggy jumpers in the house, even over his pyjamas, because his cock throbs and fills so easily to the sound of Sirius’s deep, husky voice giving him praise. Especially combined with the little touches. Sirius has always been a hugger, pulling Harry into his arms when he’s especially pleased, or Harry seems sad, or even if they haven’t seen each other much for a few days. But there are all these other little touches, too – brushing Harry’s hair out of his eyes; resting a hand on his arm when they look over things together; ruffling his hair as he passes by. Was Sirius always this tactile? Is it just that Harry is noticing it more now?

*

He’s given up pretending it isn’t Sirius in his fantasies. The shadowy figure has been getting less and less shadowy, more and more like the real man that Harry shares Grimmauld Place with. He says things Harry’s heard Sirius say, though maybe not in the same context.

_“Oh God, there, Harry sweetheart. Yes, that’s wonderful, just there… fuck.”_

Harry was massaging Sirius’s shoulders when Sirius really said those words. In Harry’s fantasy, he’s touching him somewhere very different as he hears Sirius’s voice in his head and his own hand slides slickly over his prick. Sirius, who looks younger every year that Azkaban fades further away, who is once again the handsome man Harry saw in his parents’ photos. (In his parents’ photos, though, as if to remind Harry how wrong it is to be thinking of Sirius in this way. His dad’s best friend. His _father’s_ friend.)

Sirius, who…

“Sirius, please,” Harry groans, his motions on his cock growing faster and firmer. “Sirius...”

“Harry?”

Sirius’s voice. But not in his head. Coming from the doorway. Harry jerks to attention, his mostly-closed eyes suddenly wide open. His hand falls away from his prick as he makes an awful, embarrassing, scrabbled effort to cover himself, to pretend that he wasn’t doing what it is quite clear that he was doing.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Sirius apologises. (That word again, and even now - _even now_ Harry’s cock gives a little twitch.) “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I thought I heard my name.”

Harry’s face is burning with the heat of Fiendfyre. He has a desperate urge to pull the covers over his head and hide, to pretend this isn’t happening. This is worse than stumbling over his words propositioning Cho, worse than hunting Horcruxes, for crying out loud. This is quite definitely the worst moment of his entire life.

“Er, n-no. No,” he says, looking anywhere but at Sirius.

“Pity,” Sirius says softly; and there is something in his voice that makes Harry raise his head a little bit, dare to give his godfather a little look from under his impossible fringe.

“I...”

“Because if you _had_ been saying my name… doing what you were doing… I would have been very flattered, sweetheart.”

“Why do you call me that?” It is not what Harry intended to say, but the words seem to slip out accidentally.

Sirius smiles at him, and Harry is almost sure he isn’t imagining the heat that flares in the older man’s eyes. 

“Because that’s what you are to me,” he says, strolling into the room and sitting on Harry’s bed as if he hasn’t just caught his godson wanking to his name. He touches the tips of his fingers to Harry’s face. “Do you mind?”

“I...”

Harry’s cock is hard and leaking, just from the feeling of Sirius’s fingertips on his skin. Sirius slides the tips down against Harry’s stubble-rough face: he hasn’t shaved tonight, too eager to get into bed with his thoughts of Sirius. Sirius, who is actually touching him.

“Such a good boy,” Sirius says, his voice hoarse, almost like it was when he’d just left Azkaban. “Merlin, Harry...”

Harry cuts off the small whining noise that exits his throat without his permission, a second late. He feels himself flushing under Sirius’s gaze.

“You...” The words stick in Harry’s throat as he speaks. “You don’t want...”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sirius says, and there is a ruefulness in his tone, “don’t I?” He leans in towards Harry – not kissing him, though Harry thought for a hopeful moment that he would – just looking deep into his godson’s eyes, his hand warm and firm around Harry’s jaw. “I _shouldn’t_ want,” he says. “That’s for sure.”

“W-why not?” croaks Harry. 

Barely daring to believe he’s doing it, he crosses that final boundary, leaning forward that last two inches and pressing his lips against Sirius’s, just for a second. He reaches out a hand and presses it to Sirius’s T-shirt, against his front; he can feel the fast thump of Sirius’s heartbeat, like a living thing reaching out to him. Sirius kisses him in return, just for a few seconds, then pulls back.

“Harry… Harry...”

“Yes?”

“You have to be sure,” Sirius manages. But there is a stronger message behind his gaze, and he adds after a moment, “God, be sure. Please, sweetheart.”

That _sweetheart_. The fact that it really has meant what Harry has been dying for it to mean. Harry moans, deep and low, and half-flings himself at Sirius so that the older man falls back on the bed, Harry atop him. Sirius is hard. He is so fucking hard, and male, and… and Harry hasn’t done this, not with a man. Dimly, he thinks his inexperience should be worrying him, but he’s more distracted by how it feels – Sirius is wearing jeans, and they rub against Harry’s exposed cock, slightly painful except that there is the erection beneath – Sirius’s erection beneath it – and Harry has been thinking about this for too many nights. Touching himself too many nights to thoughts of Sirius, to thoughts of Sirius’s cock.

“I’m sure,” he gasps out, his mouth by Sirius’s ear for a second, kissing there – kissing everywhere he can find in a helpless, sloppy fashion. He can’t concentrate enough to think about doing it ‘right’ - just to be doing it at all is… amazing and not enough, all at once. “Oh gods, please.”

“That’s it, baby. That’s so good.”

Sirius guides Harry’s hand down to his jeans, encouraging him to undo the button, slide down the zip. Then Harry’s hand is inside Sirius’s pants, stroking his hard length. Stroking another man’s cock. Stroking _Sirius’s_ cock. Harry makes another little whining noise at the heat and velvet-smoothness of Sirius’s erection. It feels so good, touching him like this; Harry feels almost drunk on the sensation, everything slightly out of focus and fuzzy in his brain. He is drowning in the feeling of Sirius’s kisses, Sirius’s touches, everything he’s always wanted and only recently realised.

Already on edge after being so close before Sirius even entered the room, he comes, embarrassingly easily, seconds after Sirius touches his prick, spurting over Sirius’s jeans and hand.

“Oh. Oh shit. Oh fuck, sorry,” he stammers out, face burning again with humiliation. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not two quick seconds and over. He leans his hot face against Sirius’s shoulder, unable to look his godfather in the face.

“Hey… Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Didn’t it feel good?” Sirius croons, stroking his hair and holding Harry tight against him.

“It – yeah, but just...” Expecting coherence out of him at this point is not fair. “I didn’t want it to be over like that,” he mumbles.

Sirius laughs softly, but it is not unkind. “Who said anything about it being over, baby?” he asks. “You’re young, and so is the night. You’re sure you’re not regretting -”

“I’m not regretting anything,” Harry says quickly. “Sirius… And you...” 

His hand reaches down to Sirius’s still hard cock, and Sirius makes an appreciative hum.

“That’s it. So good, Harry,” he praises. “Why don’t I take off these jeans, hmm?”

“Please.”

“And you take off your top, sweetheart. I want to see you.”

Harry sits up a little bit, as Sirius shrugs off his jeans and pants. For a man in his forties, and one who spent twelve years in a high security prison, Sirius is fit as anything. Harry has always believed it to be the case, but now, seeing his godfather half-naked, he’s certain of it. He’s not sure whether his own body will have the same effect on Sirius, but from the way Sirius takes a deep, sharp breath as Harry removes his T-shirt, his godfather isn’t complaining too much.

“So beautiful,” Sirius says, confirming Harry’s conclusion and running the tips of his fingers over Harry’s chest. “So fucking beautiful. Come here.”

He pulls Harry towards him, but Harry wants to see all of Sirius and he pushes Sirius’s top off, too, before falling back onto the bed with him. They’re naked, Harry realises breathlessly. He’s naked, with Sirius, in his bed. His prick is already beginning to stir again, just a little. Harry presses his lips to Sirius’s and they kiss, long and deep. Sirius’s hands stroke down Harry’s back, pulling him hard against him. Harry jerks his hips experimentally, and Sirius makes a noise which is half-laugh, half-moan.

“I told you it wouldn’t be over so soon,” he said. “That’s right, push against me like that. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Good,” Harry agrees, his breathing doing strange things as he ruts against Sirius. “Amazing.”

And that’s the thing. It feels so _right_. Harry’s never been with a man, didn’t know until less than a year ago that he wanted men, but being here, with Sirius – it is so perfect, so much what he wants, what he needs… Harry’s never done anything which felt this easy and uncomplicated. It’s just him and Sirius, their bodies touching and moving together. Lost in the moment, he feels himself harden further, his swollen cock pressing against Sirius’s.

“That’s it, Harry,” Sirius encourages. “Is that what you want? Do you want to come again against me like this?”

“I want...” Harry struggles for words. “I want you to fuck me.”

If he’d thought about it, he would have never thought he could get those words out, but somehow, here with Sirius, they just come. He needs Sirius inside him so badly, it’s like an itch. He’s touched himself there, pushing a couple of fingers awkwardly inside himself, disconcerted by the way it didn’t feel bad or unpleasant but weirdly good. The idea of Sirius sheathing himself in Harry’s arse… Harry takes a big gulp of air and tries to think of anything else. If he comes again before they’ve got there, he’ll die of the mix of humiliation and frustration.

“Sweetheart.” Sirius’s voice is low and yearning. “You sure? Absolutely sure?”

“Please. God, Sirius, please.” Harry hesitates, and coming too soon is suddenly not a problem, as he adds, uncertainly, “I mean, if you -”

“Oh, I do,” Sirius assures him. He breaks, kissing Harry hard and strong. “Fuck, Harry, the thought of being inside you... You’re so bloody gorgeous. Let me fuck you, baby. I’ll make it good, so good for you.”

“Yeah,” Harry says.

Sirius murmurs a spell, and he slides slick fingers down the crease in Harry’s arse, teasing his rim, running a lubricated finger round and round the edge.

“Sure?” he asks again; and Harry gives a frustrated moan and shoves back against that teasing finger. Sirius laughs, sliding it in and out again lazily, and watching Harry squirm. “I’ll take that as a yes. Look at you. You take it so well. You like that, don’t you?”

“God, yes. More.” 

Harry’s past caring how needy he sounds. He’ll worry about that sort of thing later. Just now, all that matters is what Sirius’s fingers are doing. Sirius adds a second one beside the first and it is better still. Harry writhes, especially when Sirius curls them round a little bit and…

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Harry cries, suddenly. Because there is a place, just there, which - “Sirius,” he begs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Sirius says, pressing that spot again so that Harry jerks and moans. “I’ve got you.”

“I need you to -” Harry doesn’t know what he needs Sirius to do. Carry on touching him like that? He can feel his orgasm building inside him as Sirius crooks his fingers and slides them in and out, touching him just so. But he wants Sirius’s cock, pressing into him, filling him up. Making it about both of them. “Fuck me,” he finishes, helplessly.

“I am,” Sirius murmurs, nuzzling his face against Harry’s neck, licking his jaw.

“I mean -”

“I will.”

Sirius adds a third finger, which is more than Harry’s done to himself, but it doesn’t feel too much. It feels good, and he’s feeling full and stretched and wet. Sirius mutters the lubrication spell again and Harry is almost dripping with it.

“Please!”

“Turn over,” Sirius says gently. “It’ll be easier, this first time.”

Harry turns onto his front, biting back a pitiful whine as Sirius’s fingers slip out of him. His cock hangs hard and heavy as Sirius pulls him back onto his hands and knees, and Harry both wants to touch it and is scared that he’ll come again the moment he does.

“Sweetheart,” Sirius says. “So good for me.”

The words that always, always do it for Harry. He whimpers, one hand pressing against his cock in an attempt to stop himself coming just from the sound of Sirius’s praise. Then there is a new feeling, as Sirius’s cock presses against his entrance. It won’t fit, surely, even after those fingers; but after a few moments of resistance, Harry feels it slip in. He yelps; it’s big, and there’s a burning sensation that – it hurts, just a bit. Sirius rubs little circles on his back, murmuring quiet words that Harry can’t quite catch. The burning fades and is replaced by a light-headed feeling. Harry thinks maybe his brain has short-circuited, but weirdly, where he was too full, it was too much… now he wants more.

“I… more?” he asks.

“Good boy. Harry, you’re so good.”

Sirius slides slowly in, so slowly. Harry can feel himself stretching and adjusting to fit his godfather – his body _changing_ for Sirius. The feeling grows as Sirius pushes further, and then… it can’t be sudden, not when Sirius has been going so slowly, but still, it feels sudden… Sirius is all the way in, deep inside Harry’s body in the most intimate fashion and it – it’s wonderful.

“Oh. Oh gods, Sirius, yes.”

Sirius reaches round and strokes Harry’s cock as he rocks gently back and forth inside Harry. It sends little blissful sensations through Harry, and it is perfect until it’s suddenly not enough.

“Faster, Sirius – please?”

“Anything you want,” Sirius murmurs.

He speeds up, and pushes a hand to Harry’s back until Harry is on his elbows rather than his hands. The new position makes Harry feel a little vulnerable, but somehow when it’s Sirius there, he knows it’s all right. Sirius has always been the one he can trust with everything. 

And it feels so good. So good. Suddenly, the change of angle means that Sirius’s prick is touching that place inside that he’d pressed with his fingers every time he slides in. And it is like flying, better than flying, better than anything Harry has known. Harry can hear himself crying out, babbling nonsense, rocking back against Sirius as Sirius’s hand still works on his cock. The stretch, the intensity, the sound of Sirius’s harsh breathing, the smell of sex in the air. Harry comes, harder than he’s ever known, the world blanking out until there’s nothing but his body and Sirius’s, joined. His head spins with the overflow of sensation, this magic which owes nothing to wands or wizardry. Harry only half-hears as Sirius groans deeply and comes, still strung out in his own reaction. But he knows that Sirius is there with him, all the way through. His Sirius, now his lover, too.

“Sweetheart, Harry, so good for me,” Sirius praises, pulling out and lying next to Harry, before tugging the younger man into his arms.

Harry is still working through the aftermath, his breath coming out in little moans, his heart throbbing so hard it might explode. He clings to Sirius, unable to speak for long moments. And Sirius knows, seems to understand, and just holds him, stroking his head and still murmuring those words of praise which send a warm trickle through Harry’s veins. They lie together, sweaty and come-soaked and hot, and it is almost – almost – as good as what went before. Harry feels safe, loved, in a way he never has.

There is just one little thing...

“Why did you say you shouldn’t want me?” Harry asks, scared to ask the question, but feeling the anxiety lurking in his gut. Will Sirius turn away from him now? Regret what they’ve done?

“Because I’m your godfather,” Sirius says, smiling ruefully across the pillow at Harry. “Your father would murder me for -”

“My father’s not here,” Harry says softly, leaning in for another kiss, scarcely believing he is doing this. “I am. And I want you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sirius says, and his callused hand is warm against Harry’s back, pulling him in closer still, doing anything but turning away. “Never stop.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/33332.html)! ♥


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